


Lost in Constellations

by SockGoblin



Series: The Apotelesma 'Verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, God I love the handmaids like they were so underutilized, Movie: Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Padmé Amidala and her handmaids, Padmé Amidala's Extra (tm) Wardrobe, Pining, Qui-Gon Jinn knows things, Qui-Gon Jinn says 'jedi code more like jedi suggestions'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SockGoblin/pseuds/SockGoblin
Summary: Worlds will collide when a trade blockade brings the Nubian government and two Jedi Knights together, as well as a transporter malfunction resulting in the involvement of a young slave boy who is more powerful in the Force than he seems. Qui-Gon Jinn is curious about young Anakin, and will offer to train him. His Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is curious about one of Queen Amidala's mysterious handmaids. Padmé is only fourteen, but the fate of a whole planet sits on her young shoulders, and her faithful handmaid Jané will be with her to the very end.Or, alternatively, Obi-Wan lowkey gets a crush, it is reciprocated, Qui-Gon Jinn is ready to sass off the Jedi Council, Anakin is nine years old and has no idea of what he's capable of, Padmé is trying her best to save her planet, and poor Jané is caught up in something that is much, much bigger than her job description.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s), Padmé Amidala & Handmaids, Padmé Amidala & Original Female Character, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: The Apotelesma 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693987
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. The Beginning of It All

Being Queen wasn’t easy. Yes, while the Queen of Naboo had a wonderful wardrobe, a palace in the capital of Theed, and was beloved by all the people. But those were only superficial things, ones that everyone else could see. It was difficult to miss the Queen, with her larger-than-life outfits and her entourage of six identical handmaids, Theed Palace, and how everyone was in love with the girl who was elected into office. However, on some days, the duties of the crown made it seem as if it was just another grueling job like all of the others in this universe. Being Queen has seemed infinitely more trying since the Trade Federation established their blockade, halting all trade going to Naboo. 

Especially since the blockade was established. 

If Padmé wasn’t wearing Amidala, she would rub her temples, and maybe rest her chin in her hand, but she was. She had her hair styled elaborately, with the hairpieces pinned firmly down, a headdress on, and a very heavy gown. At least she was sitting down in her massive chair so she didn’t feel the weight of her clothes pulling down on her shoulders.

“How are our people being fed?” She asked no one in particular, hoping someone in her office had an answer. “Are our harvests holding?” 

“The rations are keeping them satisfied, my lady,” Answered one of her handmaids, Jané. “Naboo is very self-sufficient when it comes to food. The people will not go hungry.” 

“Your Majesty,” sighed the Captain, “The Trade Federation won’t give up. They have ample armies, and our volunteer security won’t match them in numbers.” 

“We will have to rely on negotiation, then,” Padmé straightened herself. She needed to maintain the appearance of an untouchable force, something that no human or alien alike could harm.

“Your Majesty, negotiation won’t be enough! We must outwardly refuse, or they will destroy us!” The Governor fretted. He was a man who, for the most part, kept a clear head. He was an appreciated mentor, but he wasn’t being the wisest at the moment. 

Padmé gave him her strongest look, one that she thought made her look like she knew exactly what she was doing. The truth was that she had no idea, but she knew there was no room for error here. She needed to save her people, but there wasn’t a clear answer. The Galactic Republic had a long set of procedures, and she couldn’t make a plea from Naboo. Their communications were cut. 

“I won’t condone actions that will lead us to war.” She said, and the unspoken message hung heavy on everyone in the large office: ‘meeting adjourned.’ 

As she stood, her handmaids did too, and as she left, they followed behind her, a moving sunflower in their matching golden robes.

It was only when the heavy doors to the Queen’s apartments closed that she took a deep breath, and let Sabé and Rabé led her to her bathroom, while Eirtaé, Saché, Yané, and Jané busied themselves with other preparations, such as running a bath, fetching plainer, yet still opulent sleepwear, and calling for food. Amidala was always differentiated. It was what made the decoy plan work, when they needed it. 

Padmé sat down at a chair at the vanity, and her headdress and headpiece was removed. Her head instantly became twenty pounds lighter. Jané took a warm washcloth and began to gently rub the heavy cosmetics off, Sabé began to remove her hairpins, and the heavy collar was removed. 

“You don’t need to do this,” Padmé said, but at this point, it was empty words. She had accepted that her handmaidens would take care of her like this, no matter if she was wearing Amidala or not- they knew of the weight on her, the pressure to succeed. 

“It is our duty, my lady,” Sabé answered. “Besides, you deserve this. Aren’t I right, Eirtaé?” 

Eirtaé entered with sleepwear, and she had removed her own outer robes. Had she not noticed the others removing their cloaks? How tired was she?

“Close your eyes, my lady.” Jané wiped at her closed eyelids. “You look tired enough to sleep for a day!” 

“I feel tired enough,” Padmé answered. “Perhaps I’ll fall asleep in the bath.” 

Jané smiled slightly at the young Queen’s words, an action she often did when she was reminded of something. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you have a story for that, Jané,” Sabé said. “It’s impossible to have a story for everything!” 

“The stories aren’t mine, they’re of my world.” The other handmaiden clarified. “And the betrayal, Sabé! I thought you loved my stories!” 

“Your world sounds beautiful.” Padmé commented, the washcloth coming off of her face at the same time as the last of the hairpins was removed. 

Jané, from what everyone had learned about her while in training, didn’t speak of her past. She spun stories from the air like how people spun thread from fibres on a spindle, but she kept the details of her origins locked up inside of her. Padmé understood that, and sympathized with the older girl, for she had met her when she was thirteen, and Jané was seventeen.

“Nothing compares to Naboo,” Jané deflected. “We’ll leave you to your bath, my lady.” 

The handmaids left the bathroom, leaving Padme to finish removing the last layer of Amidala, and submerge herself in the bathtub. 

Outside of the bathroom, the other handmaids retreated to their own quarters, removing the day’s robes and trading them for their own sleepwear. Six girls all in identical nightgowns, all with vibroblades in hidden pockets. After all, a nightgown didn’t have nearly the same amount of volume as day robes did, meaning there was nowhere to hide a blaster. It was a Nubian trait, of a society where espionage is so deeply ingrained in security of their royalty and politicians. Weapons were hidden everywhere, from the throne to the tables of her desk. 

Jané closed her door and let her robes drop to the floor and pulled her hair out of its braided updo. She fluffed her hair up, trying to make her scalp readjust to the feeling of her hair being down. It needed to be brushed. It needed to be washed, but it wasn’t hair washing day. Grabbing her nightgown and pulling it over her head, she sat down on the floor. The bed was hardly five steps away, but it had been that kind of day where even standing to shower felt like it took a tremendous effort. 

Naboo was going to be invaded. Although it hadn’t happened yet, there was an unceasing twist in her stomach that made her feel that it was going to happen. At this point, it would take a miracle larger than all of the suns she had seen combined to stop the invasion. Now, the agonizing part was the torturous wait of whiling away the hours until all of the lives on that planet were under a direct threat. While the Trade Federation would most likely wait until tomorrow to commence their invasion (they were rather a group who leant towards dramatics, and what was the point of beginning an invasion if no one is awake to see it?), there was no certainty that they would wait. It was her job to protect Padmé, and even if there were guards posted around the castle, it didn’t ease her mind. So, she would stay up all night, passing the time straining her eyes reading on a datapad. 

Jané left to go sit in the common area of the Queen’s apartments, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She sat on one of the many couches, picked up a datapad from the low table, and opened a book file. It was simple, on the history of Naboo, but the print was small, and she hadn’t ever asked how to enlarge it. As a result, with the slight defect in her vision, it made her eyes ache. She longed for a book she had read before, one she had read as a child, but everything of her youth had been left behind. She wasn’t who she once was. The universe had taken her identity, smashed it to smithereens, and left her to gather up the pieces and reassemble herself. The universe wasn’t kind- it would beat you to your knees if you let it. That’s why it was so important to fortify oneself, to protect yourself and those you loved from the merciless world. Jané would rather die than see her Queen or her sisters in arms get hurt. 

~*~

It was the next morning when the Trade Federation’s Army landed. It was composed of droids, all identical and simple in design, but that didn’t make them harmless. 

The droids descended upon Theed early. They had seen the coming- Sabé was wearing Amidala, and Padmé was hidden amongst the six others in flamelike robes. Amidala was always kept larger than life, with the handmaidens dressed to accentuate, not dominate. Amidala wore all black- a mourning colour, but on top of Sabé’s head was a large, feathered headdress. As the group walked down the steps of a staircase in Theed Palace, the Governor and Captain alongside them, a member of the Trade Federation was there with a pack of droids, their green face disgustingly smug. 

Jané stood as close as she could to Padmé without being obvious. Before the two had departed for handmaiden training, her mother had cornered Jané and asked her, in the sweetest tone possible, to look out for her daughter. So, looking out for her Jané did. Her hands were clasped together, comforted by the thought of vibroblades hidden in pockets on the red underdress and a blaster beneath her sash. She could shoot this creature in the face right then and there, but such an action would be stupid. So, she disciplined herself for the time being. Besides, she wasn’t a killer, no matter how much she thought of it. 

“Ah, Your Majesty,” The Trade Federation creature said to Sabé, for few knew how Padmé really looked like underneath the silks, satins, and makeup, which was the point of the decoy. “I’m afraid your attempts to negotiate have failed. You will be needing to sign a treaty of ours to make this whole invasion of ours… legal.” 

“I will do no such thing.” Sabé said, dignifiedly. 

“Commander, take them to camp five,” The Trade Federation delegate said, and one of the many droids nodded. 

“You will come with me.” Its robotic voice dictated. The pack of droids dispersed around the party, and they were led out of the palace. 

“Stay calm,” Padmé whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“I am.” Jané replied, schooling her features into a flat expression. Her eyes scanned the other handmaidens, looking for fear in their eyes that she could quietly soothe, but they all had their faces formed into frozen, unmoving masks. They were well trained. They would do what they needed to do as a group. 

It was out in one of the gardens where their saviours appeared. Two men, dressed in shades of brown, jumped down from above, attacking the droids surrounding the royal party with sabres of light in blue and green. The two men were swift, and the droids were in pieces in moments, sliced apart and mutilated. 

“Your Highness,” Greeted the taller of the two men as they bowed. “I am Qui-Gon Jinn. We were sent by the Chancellor as ambassadors.” 

“You’re a bit late, ambassador,” The Governor commented. “We have already been invaded.” 

“And we’re taking the Queen off planet.” Qui-Gon Jinn replied. “To Coruscant. Do you have any transports left?” 

“In the main hangar, yes.” 

Qui-Gon Jinn and his follower were whisked into the royal party as they began to hurry in the direction of the main hangar, where the rest of the transports remained. There was always a ship for the Queen, one that was supplied with a small wardrobe for her and the handmaidens, and with no small amount of luck, it would still be there.

The main hangar wasn’t empty, but Jané figured it wouldn’t be. The whole palace had to be swarming with droids by now. 

“There, the silver ship. The one in the middle.” The captain pointed out. “We’ll need to free those pilots, but we can take off fast enough. Your Majesty?” 

He looked to Sabé for the ‘Queen’s approval.’ Sabé and Padmé exchanged the quickest of glances, trying to figure out a plan without the notice of anyone else. 

“It will not be easy, and it will be dangerous,” Sabé said, looking at ‘her’ handmaids. 

“We are brave, Your Highness,” Padmé replied, and that was it. Everything was set. It was time to get off of Naboo and get to Coruscant. 

Jané let go of her hands and grabbed the material of her robes. She had changed a lot over the years, but one flaw hadn’t been worn away no matter how much time past or how much grace she put into her movements- Jané was clumsy, and this wasn’t the time to trip and fall. On instinct, she grabbed the arm of one of her other handmaids around her, urging them to run faster. Whose elbow she grabbed, Eirtaé, wasn’t the fastest, although she wasn’t nearly as clumsy. 

A droid screeched, and raised its gun. “You are… under arrest!” It attempted to keep up with her movements with its simple programming. “Stop moving or you will be fired upon!”

From the other side of the room, Jané’s eyes flickered to the younger man who followed Qui-Gon Jinn, who was destroying droids rapidly but neatly, moving in smooth katas. His eyes met hers, and he began to run to her side of the room, and more droids began to gather, threatening arrest and opening fire. He wouldn’t get across in time, Jané knew, so she pushed Eirtaé towards the opening of the transport. 

“Go, I’ll catch up! Cover the Queen!”

Jané pulled her small silver blaster from her robes, and began to fire. She just needed to get inside the transport, to cover Eirtaé and the others. Unfortunately, even if she shot down some, others just gathered, rendering her efforts useless. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed a hand, or two, but she kept a calm mind with the thought that she would rather be out here, and the others safe inside. The ground beneath her trembled- were her legs shaking, or was the ship powering up? 

Blaster fire from the droids seared her right arm, and it fell from her blaster grip. A second shot in quick succession burned past her wrist, barely avoiding shooting it off altogether. Jané grunted and bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, but adrenaline allowed her to continue to shoot, or try to, her aim skewed with only one arm able to shoot. She was left even more vulnerable to blaster fire, and a shot from the droids that were now struggling to stand got her in the side. 

Pain blinded her, and all Jané knew was the trigger of her blaster, and the hand of the person who grabbed her blaster arm and whisked her inside the transport. Jané barely noticed they took off from the invaded planet, and instead rushed over to her sisters-in-arms, ignorant of her smouldering robes and raw burns. 

“Is everyone alright?” She asked, looking to the others dressed in flame-like robes, then Sabé. She would have checked closer on Padmé, but appearances needed to be maintained, and Sabé was the one wearing Amidala, with a larger target painted on her back. “Your Majesty?” 

Sabé had to rein in her facial features, keeping her surprise. She looked to the other handmaids. “Someone, attend to her.”

Rabé gently placed a hand on the not-burning shoulder, and tried to lead her to a seat. “Jané, sit down, we need to look at you-” 

“But is everyone alright?” She asked again, then winced. She was beginning to feel the pain seeping into her skin, into her bloodstream. “Oh, Christ..”

Jané let herself be pushed into a seat, and leant her head back against the wall, eyes glazing over. Her entire body was burning. 

“Oh, god,” She whispered. “Oh, Christ.”


	2. Escapees

The escape from Naboo wasn’t easy. It was a miracle that they were even able to get through the Trade Federation’s blockade, but they weren’t without their wounds. The ship’s shield generator had been damaged, and two of the three droids sent out to repair it in the thick of the battle had been destroyed, blown to bits, doomed to float in empty space for all time. The single surviving droid was smudged with ash from the blast, in front of Queen Amidala and her handmaidens. At the insistence of Jané, she was standing with the others, even though her robes were still vaguely smoldering and she was trying to grip the floor of the starship with her toes through her shoes. 

“What is this droid’s name?” Sabé asked. 

The droid whistled and beeped a few times, and the captain looked to his Queen to translate. “R2-D2, Your Highness.” 

Sabé let a small smile grace the features of Amidala. “Padmé,” She called, and Padmé moved to be next to where the droid and the captain stood. “Clean this droid up the best you can. It deserves our gratitude.” 

Padmé nodded, and she walked away with the droid beeping as it rolled alongside her. Jané, although she wasn’t told to, began to stumble behind her- it was an unspoken rule that Jané generally went wherever Padmé went, save for the refresher. 

“Jané,” Sabé called out, preventing her from following Padmé. “There’s no need for that. Do you require medical attention?” 

She shook her head. “I’m fine, Your Highness.” Jané was very obviously lying, as in her eyes, everything was spinning and she was standing diagonally. The ground was swaying like a boat beneath her feet- was the starship still moving, barrel rolling through space? 

Jané’s knees buckled, and she would have fallen face-first onto the clean floor of the starship if it weren’t for Qui-Gon Jinn’s partner, who caught her in his arms. She looked up at his face, and decided through a haze of pain-induced delirium and dizziness that he was very handsome. Cropped hair with a ginger tinge to it, grey-blue eyes, and a strong jawline. He looked concerned for her, and a lone piece of long hair- a braid with yellow and white beads in it, tickled her face. She let out a small laugh, before cringing from the pain her laughter called. Jané was sharply yanked back into reality by the burning sensation in her side and arm. 

“Thank you, Jedi, but I can take her from here,” Rabé said, and after a nod of approval from Sabé, she and Eirtaé moved towards their sister-in-arms. They slung her arms around their shoulders, and began to move her to a seperate room where they could get a better look at her wounds. 

It took five minutes to remove her overdress, revealing a red underdress beneath it. Eirtaé pushed the red cap off of Jané’s head, and slowly, they began to take off the underdress. The right sleeve and side of both garments were damaged, the velvet material with semi-cleanly burnt holes in it, and unfortunately, the less natural fibres that made up the underdress had melted around the edges, clinging to Jané’s skin. 

“Stars, Jané, how were you still standing?” Eirtaé asked. “I would have passed out over twenty minutes ago.”   
Jané shrugged with her left side as she was laid down on a bunk. Even her undergarments were burnt, the sleeveless slip had a seared hole at her waist on the right side. “I.. don’t know. Oh, Christ, this hurts.” 

Rabé turned to the door as it chimed, indicating that someone was entering, and took the med kit from the captain. It was full of basic medical supplies, bacta patches and spray, disinfectant, bandages, tablets for pain, sedative hyposprays- but how to use the supplies on Jané, she had no idea. Jané was the best healer out of all of them. 

“Can you tell us how to treat you?” Eirtaé joined Rabé in staring confusedly at the contents of the med kit then back to her wounds. 

Jané’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she shook her head as her eyelids began to close. She was on the verge of passing out. 

“Jané, listen to me,” Rabé cut in. “I need you to tell Eirtaé and I what to do. We don’t know how to help you, and I don’t think anyone else can.” 

Weakly, Jané opened her eyes. “IV antibiotics, electrolytes, tetanus shot. You gotta… you gotta cut all the dead stuff off, and get a graft.” 

Rabé looked to Eirtaé. “She’s delirious. Whatever she said, we don’t have that type of supplies. We will need to do the best we can.” 

Bacta patches were applied to the burns covering most of the skin on her upper arm, and a much deeper, severe burn on her wrist and forearm as well as above her right hip, and after forcing her to swallow some pain tablets, they left her to sleep, and went to report back to the ‘Queen.’ 

“Your Majesty, Jané’s wounds are quite extensive. We do not have the medical supplies necessary to heal her.” 

Sabé’s gaze flickered to Padmé’s. The Queen’s chambers were empty, save for the Queen and her handmaidens, and the doors were soundproof. It was safe to break ranks. 

“The Queen needs to be here, but someone needs to go with the Jedi when we land on Tatooine. To look for ourselves and to search for medical supplies. The Jedi may be sent by the chancellor, but I’m not comfortable leaving Jané’s life in their hands- or any of ours.” Padmé said. 

“If only,” Sabé began, dropping the deepened, regal voice of Amidala. “There were a way for you to be in two places at once.” 

Saché looked to Sabé with wide eyes, and grabbed onto the large black sleeve of Amidala’s dress. “You can’t be serious! Tatooine is a dangerous place, full of ruffians and scoundrels!” 

Padmé pondered her choices. Jané, who was loyal to her with every fibre of her being, was in need of more supplies than they had. Yes, she could stay here, and send the ever risk-taking Sabé to accompany the Jedi, but it was one thing to have a decoy and be alongside them and another to send them out on their own. She couldn’t ask that of Sabé, of any of them. She would go. 

“You’ll stay here, Sabé. They only know of you as Amidala. I’ll go with the Jedi.” She decided. 

“But, my lady, you can’t!” Saché cried out. “Tatooine is-” 

“Tatooine is a place I have never seen and know little of, Saché. A good ruler should know of other planets, even if they are on the outer rim. I’ll go as a handmaiden, don’t worry. Nobody would suspect me.” She explained, then turned to Sabé. “I thank you for your offer, Sabé, but I can’t ask you of this. I’ll have my blaster, plus I’ll be with the Jedi- they are the greatest warriors in the Republic.” 

“We trust you, my lady,” Sabé replied. “And we’ll abide by your command.” 

~*~

Jané was awake by the time Padmé had gone to get dressed. Despite the extreme amount of pain she must be in, she was sitting up, pulling a red-threaded needle through the material of her red underdress. 

“Here, let me help you-” She said, putting her sewing aside and shifting to get up when Padmé held up a hand, signalling that she didn’t need to move. 

“You’re hurt, Jané, you need to focus on healing. How much pain are you in?” Padmé asked to see if she needed to get tablets for pain from the med kit. 

Jané bit down on the raw spot on her lip, sucking the blood off of it.

“I’ve been through worse,” Was her cryptic answer.

Padmé got the tablets and gave them to Jané, who swallowed them without complaint. She pulled a wardrobe carrier out of one of the many cabinets in the wall, and took out less conspicuous clothing for Tatooine. The flame-coloured robes wouldn’t suit the low profile she wanted on the foreign planet. 

Jané resumed sewing, and Padmé didn’t do anything to stop her. Jané needed something to keep her hands busy, and it was reasonable. She was left-handed anyhow, and the material just needed to be barely pinched together between the fingers on her right hand. Her gaze was odd, though, as it was vaguely glassy, like her eyes were penetrating everything that was in front of her, through the stars itself. Then, she blinked, shook her head, and refocused her attention on stitching the burn holes on her dress shut. It would make the fabric awkwardly pull, but it would work until they were back at Theed or somewhere where they could make another flame-coloured set of robes. Padmé wondered what went inside Jané’s mind when that look overcame her face. It was a forlorn look, one that made Jané, who was clumsy and funny and had a story for anything you could possibly ask of her, seem hollow. 

“We should make the robes resistant to blaster fire,” Padmé suggested. “There’s a resin that security volunteers’ uniforms are dipped in. The fabric is still fluid, but it offers more protection.”

“A precaution we should also take for your clothes, my lady.” Jané replied. 

Padmé laughed, but not bitterly\\. The gowns of the Queen were vast in fabric and heavily protective, with blasters hidden underneath the many layers as well as a side closure that enabled it to be removed hastily (much to the chagrin of the gown), with the base layer of a slip and leggings remaining. Chances were that the precaution had already been taken. After the Trade Federation left their little planet alone, she would take that up with the palace tailors. Her handmaidens deserved to be as well protected as her, if they were to protect her as bodyguards and doubles.

Jané shivered. Something felt very wrong, as if the entirety of the universe had been shifted a few inches to the right, and the cloudiness from a few moments earlier didn’t dissuade this feeling. It only made it stronger. Dread curled around her insides, tightening around her stomach. Something was terribly wrong in the universe, and she couldn’t shake the possibility that it might affect the Queen. “My lady,” She spoke up, even though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.

Padmé finished tying her belt, then noticed that Jané was shivering. She took a blanket from the bunk above Jané to give to the older girl. Jané gratefully drew the crimson material over her shoulders, but she wasn’t sure that being cold was what was wrong. It wasn’t enough to fix the lead balloon in her stomach.

She grabbed Padmé’s hand as she was about to leave the barracks. Jané looked her in her eyes, and she wondered how long Padmé’s eyes would remain youthful and lively. She wanted that sparkle to remain for a long, long time. Padmé was too young to be crushed by the pressure on her shoulders, by the weight of all the worlds. Sadly, the galaxy didn’t take things like age into account. It didn’t discriminate: it took and took until you were nothing more than an empty husk. 

“Be careful, my lady. I don’t know where we’re going or what will happen, but promise me you’ll be safe.” 

Padmé squeezed Jané’s hand. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be with the Jedi, and I can communicate to you via comlink. Besides, I know that if I even think of getting in danger, you all will run to find me and destroy whatever might put me in peril” 

“Even if I can’t walk without falling over?” She smiled slightly, joking now. 

“Rabé would carry you on her back if she needed to.” 

Padmé let go of her hand, returned her smile and left the barracks. The smile dropped off her face the moment she turned around. The Trade Federation could be all but a breath away, and everyone was defenseless. The starship had no power, and even two Jedi, the most powerful warriors in the galaxy, would be no match for an armed ship. What they all needed was a miracle, the largest miracle in the universe to get them off the approaching planet, have the senate recognize her plea, and to have her people and planet freed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've got our second Obi-Wan and Jané interaction, and it's a little less bare-bones than last chapter, where he grabbed her elbow. Enjoy, nerds, as most of next chapter will most likely be those two dorks for two thousand words or more words.


	3. Insomia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Jané properly meet, have a good conversation and get to know each other a little. Our boy Obi-Wan starts crushing, and Jané is very flattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... have nothing to say for myself. Enjoy!

Everyone aboard the Nubian starship was asleep, save for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Despite how many times his master told him to not focus on his anxieties, they always seemed to find a way to worm themselves back inside his head. They were on a strange planet, and Qui-Gon Jinn had decided to put their fate in the hands of a local boy. It was all up to this stranger to win all the bets he was making- large bets, including their ship. If their ship was seized, they would be stuck on Tatooine until contact could be made with Coruscant, and making contact from this far on the Outer Rim with a broken ship seemed nearly impossible. 

Obi-Wan stopped himself from tugging on his padawan braid- a habit of his he thought was unbecoming and unprofessional- and assumed a position on the floor to meditate. As he was about to close his eyes and connect himself with the Force, he detected another human being entering the control room. In breezed a figure wrapped in a crimson blanket, the front of it flapping open to reveal a pale pair of legs, a white slip barely distinguishable from the skin. Looking up at the person’s face, he recognized it as the handmaiden who had slipped and fallen into his arms hours earlier. Then, her brown eyes had been glazed over with pain and a dreamy quality to them. It was as if she was looking directly into him, into his soul, her brown eyes bypassing all of his mental defenses. 

The handmaiden sat across from him, and she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. As she moved to do so, Obi-Wan caught a glimpse at the arm that had been mutilated by blaster fire, swaddled in bandages.

“You should be resting,” He said, moving closer to the girl. “And laying down.” 

The girl cracked a smile that was more of a grimace. “I couldn’t stand to lay there any longer. I need to move. I can’t sleep, anyways.”

“Sitting up can’t be painless.” 

“I’ve been through worse, master Jedi.” 

“I’m not a Jedi master, actually,” Obi-Wan corrected, wondering what planet she had grown up on to not know much of the Jedi. The long braid extending from behind his right ear was a clear marker of his rank. “I’m a padawan.” 

“Should I call you padawan Jedi, then?” She asked, her tone curious. 

“No. Obi-Wan is fine.” He said, avoiding the urge to duck his head. He never had had a conversation one-on-one with a girl who wasn’t also in the Order. And here he was, fraternizing with one of the Queen’s handmaidens. Was this considered fraternization? 

“Obi-Wan,” The girl amended. “I’m Jané. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Do all the handmaidens share similar names to the Queen?” He asked without thinking, and Obi-Wan winced. It wasn’t very official to just ask questions unprompted. This was a handmaiden to the Queen, he had to remember. 

“I’ll answer if I get to answer a question, also.” 

“Alright.”

“Yes. We take a part of her name to reflect our loyalty. It’s the ultimate expression of devotion. We would all die for our Queen..” 

When Jané finished answering, her eyes began to fade out. It was as if her gaze was looking through everything around her, including him. Then, slowly, she returned to the present. 

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to do that.” She told him, and she settled looking at the long braid. “My father had something like that.” 

“That’s not a question,” Obi-Wan replied, and he would have laughed slightly if it weren’t for the melancholy rolling off of her in waves. Grief, he recognized. Her father must be gone. “It’s a padawan braid. When I become knighted, it will be cut off with my lightsaber. Was your father once part of the Jedi Order?” 

Jané shook her head, the melancholy being replaced by the slightest smile Obi-Wan had ever seen. “No, I’m afraid not. Was your father?” 

“No. I never knew my parents. Potential Jedi are raised in the temple after being taken from their parents.” 

Jané hummed in response. Even though she had assumed her features into an impenetrable mask, he could feel her unease. Fair enough, he thought. Many disapproved of the Jedi Order’s methods. 

“Better to forget, I suppose.” She murmured, and then she looked past him, past everything surrounding the two of them, and she was absorbed by whatever had captured her attention. This time, it wasn’t half a minute of her being absent, or even two. She stayed in her trance, still as a stone, scarcely breathing. 

After five minutes, Obi-Wan became concerned. Hesitantly, he reached out and rested his hand on top of hers, the one attached to the non injured arm. Her skin was cold- ice cold, and she didn’t react to the touch at all. 

“Miss?” He asked her, his voice soft. Better to speak quieter than to scare her. “Jané, can you hear me?” 

Her eyes shifted from staring into nothing to staring into his own, and Obi-Wan felt the metaphysical part of himself, his soul perhaps, leaving the realm where their physical beings were. 

~*~  
He was on a ship, an older vessel. The durasteel making up the walls was rusty in patches, and heat radiated off of the walls. It was stuffy, nearly blistering, yet Obi-Wan wasn’t sweating. He could feel the temperature, but it wasn’t affecting him.

He was in a memory, Obi-Wan realized. Somehow, by the simple act of physical contact, he had been pulled into the recesses of Jané’s mind. The girl might not even know she was doing it, or even able to do it. Qui-Gon had only done this a few times with him, but even that was heavily supported by the strength of their training bond. This type of action required extensive control over the Force. 

Then the scream came, from further down the hall. It was loud and shrill, terrified. The sound of it sent the worst kind of shivers down Obi-Wan’s spine, and against his better judgement and following the advice of his master to be in the moment, he ran towards it. 

“I told ya, why don’t you cut out her tongue, eh? It’ll give you a lot less trouble, then.” A gruff voice said, and his accent was indistinct. 

“What’s cutting out her tongue going to do? She’ll still scream. Besides, it’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

Another scream, and the two male voices laughed, then a third joined in. 

“Lighten up and get away from her face! I like her pretty.” 

More screaming, followed by whimpering. Obi-Wan entered the area where the three voices were, and they had mottled skin, spotted with black and rotting spots, scraggly, dirty hair, and gnarled, twisted teeth. Two of the strange creatures stood around a lean figure, skin bloodied and whimpering, shaking with every sob. The remaining creature sat on a chair, a large bottle of Corellian brandy in his hand. He would laugh occasionally, then take a swig from the bottle. 

“What’re these, anyway?” One of the creatures, the one holding a long, electrified whip in hand, tassels glowing yellow. In his other hand, he raised two purple squares attached to each other with a bridging piece. A fragile sort of transparisteel was set inside the squares, fragile because it was cracked and scratched. 

“Something from the backwater planet we took her from. They’re meant to correct her vision.” The leading creature took another long swig from the bottle. 

Obi-Wan was still. He knew he couldn’t help the poor girl who was laying on the ground. All he could do was watch. It was a memory. 

The girl on the floor of the ship wasn’t Jané. Her hair, patches stained with blood and others torn from her scalp altogether, was an ash blonde. Jané had dark hair. So where was she in her memories? Maybe Obi-Wan was in her position, but his moves didn’t feel dictated by the memory. 

Then she appeared. Wide-eyed, dark-haired, and frozen, Jané was in the corner. She mouthed one single word. 

“No.”   
~*~  
Obi-Wan felt as if he was pulled away from the girl, who was now blinking and looking around, confused. Now, he was sweaty, the temperature from the ship he never set foot on affecting him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked Jané, who was cradling her injured arm to her chest. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She replied, then winced. “My arm…” 

Like he had expected, she had no idea what just occurred. Whatever abilities she had to do such an action, they were buried deep in the back of her mind. Jané wasn’t aware of it. 

Slightly ashamed of how he acted towards a girl he had, in reality, known for barely a day, Obi-Wan straightened himself up. He was here with Qui-Gon on a mission, and it wouldn’t do well to fraternize with the Queen’s handmaidens, let alone one who was so obviously vulnerable to her injuries. And that wasn’t even mentioning that becoming attached was against the Jedi Code. He wasn’t going to try and make friends with Jané. They both had their duties to perform. 

“It’s burning,” Jané hissed in pain, scratching the blanket off of her arm, exposing one white shoulder with an arm swaddled in bacta patches and bandages. Fiercely, she tore off the bandages, discarding them on the floor. She couldn’t think properly, all she could do was to try and make it stop burning. “It’s burning so, so bad.” 

“Here, let me see,” Obi-Wan offered, and she extended her arm. Obi-Wan wasn’t particularly skilled at healing, no more than what basic training said he should learn (he was more interested in mechanics and engineering), but there was something inside of him that compelled him to at least attempt to help. 

The mutilated arm had large, burned patches, with clumps of dead skin and crops of raw, oozing skin crackling out from beneath black burned areas. Surrounding her burns was angry, red skin, inflamed and bumpy with hives. 

“We need new bacta patches,” He guessed. “The old ones, they’re not doing their job too well.” 

Jané laughed shortly. “Bacta isn’t going to fix this. I can only assume how it would have been treated where I come from. It definitely needs to be cleaned- the damaged skin needs to be cut off, then it can grow anew.” 

“You’ll have some large scars,” Obi-Wan observed. “Marks showing how you’ve served your Queen. Here, let me wrap these back up.” 

Using fresh bacta patches and bandages, Obi-Wan wound the white cloth around her injured arm as neatly as he could. Jané only winced occasionally, and eventually her non-injured arm wrapped around her torso. 

“I need to lay down. My side is… it’s painful, to say the least.” 

Obi-Wan tucked in the end of the bandage and saw how she struggled to her feet. It was probable she wouldn’t make it back to where the Queen and her handmaidens slept, not alone. 

“Perhaps I should escort you back,” He suggested, standing up and offering her his arm, like Qui-Gon had taught him. 

“You don’t need to do this.” Jané told him, but she took his arm nonetheless. 

“It’s my duty,” Obi-wan simply rebuked. 

“It’s your duty to escort handmaidens who were graceless enough to be injured by blaster fire?” Jané had the hint of a smile on her face. Despite her tired eyes with dark circles beneath them, hair falling out of its careful braids, and thin face, she was beautiful, he realized. 

“Graceless? Never.” 

Now, the smallest laugh escaped her list. “I’m afraid that’s just not true. I’m rather clumsy, which you will definitely learn if we are to be together for longer.” 

The two stopped at the door that led to where the Queen was sleeping. Obi-Wan let go of her arm, then bowed. 

“You don’t need to bow for me. I’m only a handmaiden.”

“You’re not ‘only’ anything.” He told her. “Goodnight, Jané.” 

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.” 

The door closed behind her, and Obi-Wan was once again anxious, although with one additional reason to before; he was anxious to see Jané tomorrow.


End file.
